Sniper's Eye
by lir100
Summary: Mankind's history is littered with weapons designed to break the human will and body; One of the deadliest? The Eye of a Sniper. Even stronger still? The Eyes of a lost love. (Not brilliant at summaries, let me know if you see anything to improve in this!) (Aruani WW2 Sniper one shot)
1. Chapter 1 - Battlefield

Sniper's Eye

 _-Mankind's history is littered with different driving forces but there is one thing and one thing alone that remains constant; Weaponry. Always having a bigger stick than your opponent if you will. This is what pushed man from stone spears to iron shields to explosive rifles. But all pale in comparison to one of the most fundamental of them all; The Human Eye. If used poorly, entire battalions can slip by unnoticed, destroying your armies. But used efficiently, by a master of themselves, it becomes the most devastating weapon in existence, capable of slaughtering legions in mere moments. -_

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

The words of the Military research paper he'd written in class years ago rung through Armin's mind alongside the ringing of the shots that ejected from the barrel as he rested by bruised cheek against the worn stock of his weary rifle. Calloused fingertips brushed over the cold metal surface as the magazine locking mechanism fell into place with clockwork precision. Even after he had used the rifle for years, it was in such good condition that, mechanically, it was fresh off the rack. Memories of cleaning the intricate bolts and plates with oil caused the familiar scent to flood his mind. Pushing it aside, he brought his eye to the rim of his scope as his finger left the thin rim of the trigger that kept those in his sight, safe.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

He took no pleasure in his work. No pride. He didn't fight to kill, he fought to protect those who he cared for. He looked out to the field, scouring the field for his comrades. His eyes darting downwards, he caught glimpse of the mortar squadron, Sasha, Connie and Jean working fluidly together; A constant stream of comet like grenades soared over the battlefield from their pit. Beyond them stood the infantry; Soldiers of the 104th regiment of their nation, who stood brave in the face of courage, willing to die for their cause. He tried to remember how it felt to be on the front line like that, but it was fogged by memories of screams and blood as he dragged away from his comrade's corpses by their medic, Krista. Ripping his mind back to the present, he forced his gaze back to the field. He saw near the enemy's trench, the tell-tale sign of the _Dancer_ , a lightweight weaponised motorcycle taken from the enemy by defector, Ymir.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

As his crosshairs landed on his next target, he prepared to pull the trigger but stiffened it as the soldier in his sight crumpled into a limp mound on the floor, a small glint of metal stuck in his jugular. Oh. She must be there. Shifting slightly to his right, he saw her. Mikasa Ackerman. In his eyes, she was his childhood friend who took care of him, his protector. But in the eyes of Generals and Commanders, she was a deadly asset. Genetically enhanced through experimental surgery by their military's Research Division, she has become a living, breathing weapon in of herself. Her training allows her to excels with any and all weaponry that is available; From assault rifles to rocket launchers to the very kind of sniper Armin felt in his hands. But she knew, that once she had been deployed, she would instantly become a target for enemy snipers and mortar fire. If she hung back with the rest of the unit, she felt that she'd be putting them in danger. As such, she took point role, allowing her to be the first deadly knife that pierced the enemy lines. Her pistol and blades allowed her to pass through and around enemy soldiers like a shadow. He watched as she saw her kick down the bunker door like it was paper, followed by a burst of bullet fire. Knowing he had no reason to fear, it wasn't a surprise to him when the green smoke drifted into the air above the bunker, signalling for the rest to move forward. But that didn't mean Armin could yet move. He still had a job to do.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Aim. Fire. Kill.

Whilst the infantry slung their packs to their harnesses, the familiar churn of the _Rouge,_ a new generation of solo driven tank stolen from the enemy by Eren's father and turned against them, piloted by Eren singlehandedly, churned across the torn up earth; the air surrounding it, reverberating from the sheer force of the shots that were slung from its cannon. Whilst the smoke cleared from the barrel of the tank's firing port, his eyes followed its trajectory, calculating what he would actually be shooting at, reaching the conclusion that Eren was in fact, an awful aim. Reluctantly sighing, he reached to the small of his back, pulling the small radio he had made from scrap around Squad Leader Hanji's workshop and activating it with a harsh crackle of noise,

"Rogue, this is Spyglass do you copy?" he questioned, knowing well that Eren could hear him

"Loud and clear Armin, what's up?" Came the casual reply

"Use the damn call signs Eren, they're there for a reason…" he muttered before sighing and composing himself "Your shots are way too high, bring the axis down by 15 degrees, stat."

A small pause, permeated by static filled the line before Eren replied "Yeah okay alright…"

Armin kept his sight on the vehicle's turret until he saw it dip, smiling softly in satisfaction as he clipped the radio back onto his belt and began to pull up his rifle again, before a splash of light filled his eye and he felt himself be knocked back as if he'd just been charged.

Aim. Fire. Miss.

* * *

The cry of a siren cut through his blacked out conscious, wrapping around him like a whip's rope and yanking him back up. When his eyelids cracked open, the light crept into his pupils, causing him to tighten them closed once more. His head flurried with panic as he tried to piece together what had just happened; he was talking with Eren, clipping his radio back on, raising his rifle and then… nothing? What happened? He passed out? Did he get hit?

Running his hand over the camouflaged fabric of his uniform, he tried to feel for any blood soaked patches but couldn't find any. Feeling to his side, he noted the large nick in the metal helmet; Huh, he thought, so I guess getting a haircut so I could wear that damn thing did actually save his life, thinking about the words of his drillmaster, Shadis. As memories drifted into his consciousness, the more intricate sounds of battle slowly came back into his hearing as he forced his eyes to peek open. The siren came drifting down from the heavens, as if the angels were preparing for war, the ground rumbling as if a stampede came upon it. As he noted all this he realised that these hadn't been there before, scrambling back into position, he sluggishly pulled the radio to his ear,

"Spyglass calling in, was knocked out, what's the situation?"

"Armin! Are you alright? We're pinned down here!" "Are you hurt?" came worried responses from his squadron

Wincing as he pulled himself up "Guys I'm fine alright? ... Just tell me what's happening" he requested with dignified exhaustion.

"They're here…" Eren replied, bitterness dripping from his words

"Who? Titans? The Train? Aerial Bombers?" Armin frantically questioned

"Damn traitors…" Mikasa spoke, spite evident in her tone also.

Oh no… Armin thought, as he looked out to the field and saw them. The 3 soldiers who had been their allies and fellow cadets for years at the academy, the 3 soldiers who they had pledged their lives with, the 3 soldiers who betrayed them…

The unmissable armoured plating of the _Shield_ shone in the mid-morning mist as the heavy duty tank's engine roared like Legion himself. Pulling up his rifle, peering through the scope he looked at the war machine closely, scouring for openings or weak points. There were none. It was a Weapon designed to be impenetrable by any and all conventional weaponry; Even against the high calibre of his own rifle dammit…

Knowing the mortar team would have to deal with the _Shield_ , he cast his eye upwards, he saw the steam that poured out of the behemoth bomber, the _Colossus'_ exhausts as it pushed its way through the sky, constantly raining death from above as it was dogged by the 'Wings of Freedom Pilots'. As the small planes darted around the gigantic construction, he could see they were slowly but surely wearing it down and out of steam to fuel it.

Scouring the field for the third traitor, the Frozen Titan, he noted the other Titan units that had been brought; _The Chariot_ came crawling slowly across the god forsaken hills, it's unique traction system made it the first train that could go anywhere; A technological marvel, thought, if only it wasn't actively trying to kill them. Scanning behind the _Cart_ , he saw one of his enemy's most powerful weapons; _The Beast_. Also a technological marvel in that it could decimate an entire legion in one swift volley of what he heard the Pilot of the damn thing nicknamed as 'pebbles'. But for all of his scouring, he still couldn't see her; maybe she wasn't there?

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" came a coldly familiar voice. So she was here after all, he thought. Gripping his radio like driftwood after a shipwreck, he spoke as calmly as he could "Somewhat. How the hell did you get on this frequency?" He asked "Won't this give away your position?" trying to act as unemotional as he could.

A small huff of smug breath passed through the speaker as it was followed, "Did you really think I'd let you stay on the same channel as everyone else when I wanted to talk to you?"

His eyes widening as he looked to his machine, he saw that he had indeed, been shifted to another channel.

"Alright, what is it you want? I'm guessing it was your shot that took me out earlier but we both know you could've made it a kill."

As the static broke again, she spoke "I guess you're right…" A shot ricocheted next to his head, forcing him to duck. As his chin hit the floor he heard the speaker pipe up again "But I don't want that. I want to talk to you."

Armin almost felt a weight pull down his stomach as the words hit his ears. Tears threatened to break onto his cheeks as he forced his breathing to calm, knowing damn well he didn't believe the words he was about to say but he couldn't let his past with her catch up to him; Not today "Who the hell would I even be talking to? Aren't you _Frost_ now?"

The wince was almost audible on the line as he heard her breath catch.

"… You know I didn't have a choice… I had to protect my family…"

"You mean the family that sold you to your government? You want to protect them? That's bullshit and we both know it, Leonhardt."

Despite the bombshells, explosions and cries of the battlefield, in that moment, the two felt silence.

"Armin please… Don't do this, I don't want this… I just have to… You can walk away, just say you got injured… please."

"We both know that I can't do that either."

"Well then" He heard the bolt mechanism slide back over the radio "Will I have to shoot?"

"It's your choice…." A small lump passed through his throat "But I want you to know, that I've always thought you were a good person… Better than this… better than those _animals_ … It's your choice if you want to change my mind"

The perfect shot, he thought as his scanning eyes finally picked up on the pale blonde twinge in the tall burnt trees. God why did it come to this? He muttered subconsciously, why couldn't he have helped her?

"Annie…" He continued "Please. I don't want this either." A light catch of breath passed over the line "But…" The catch of breath becoming a choked noise "I can't leave my friends. You know that."

It's true, Annie thought, he's so damn stubborn that I'm honestly not that surprised. As the two stood frozen in the moment, the battle seemed to freeze. The streaks of missiles falling from the _Colossus_ looked like frozen tears on a child's face. The explosions erupting from the ground like flowers of Hell. He didn't want to do this, he wanted this one moment with her. Just one damn moment. Before…

Diving to his right, his hands wrapped around the grip of his rifle as he came upright, eyes aligning perfectly with the crosshairs, trailed onto the lens glare. But in that moment, it was as if they could see each other's eyes and souls. Snipers eyes are the last sight of dead men but for the two snipers, like birds above the battlefield below, those eyes broke their will to fight.

It was as if they were standing in a frozen pocket of existence, their gazes locked like steel chains; Bound to one another forever. The panting could be heard over the speaker both ways as they remained in deadlock.

Until Annie sighed.

"You know what Artlet." Propping her arm off of the ground "I used to be a warrior." She stated solemnly over the mic before he saw her body rise up from the earth she was lying upon. And she turned away.

"Tell them you killed me Armin. That my body fell down a cliff. Just let me disappear. I can't do this anymore. This war… Both sides are so blind…"

"Annie please we can hel-"

"Goodbye Armin. I'm sorry."

Static.

Aim. Stop. Retreat.

* * *

Stifled cries were forced silent as he sat in the back of the truck that carried them away from the horrors of the battle, his eyes puffy and red.

"Hey Armin, you alright? You look shaken up." Mikasa asked as she turned to face him

Armin's silence only grew.

"I know you loved her. But that wasn't her anymore. She tried to kill us all. She had to go." Mikasa stated bluntly, but with kindness in her eyes.

Armin's silence only grew.

"I'm proud of you though. You stepped up today and made a hard choice. Let's get you home"

Armin's silence finally broke as he fell into Mikasa, sobs tearing through his throat as she pulled him in.

Annie Leonhardt was gone. And he had killed her.


	2. Chapter 2 - After the War

**Epilogue**

It had been ten years since he had left that God forsaken field and returned from the front. As he settled into civilian life, he did pretty well for himself. Set up a small shop with his friends on the coast. Kept a quaint apartment in downtown. Paid his rent. Kept healthy. A model citizen. And he liked it. He liked living a normal life; away from war, battle and pain. He couldn't escape it entirely though. None of them could ever really escape the memories that came at night.

But he managed it. He painted his thoughts, spun them down as poetry and even tried to sing away his sorrows on an old market guitar. He had put his life as a soldier behind him. But he couldn't bring himself to cut the final strand.

Every year, like clockwork, March 22nd, Armin Artlet would take the long trek to the Academy's graveyard even through the blizzard-like snow. Mikasa used to try and stop him or accompany him at least but now understood that he needed to be alone for this, but at least forced him to put on a coat, scarf and gloves. That Academy's halls were important to their cause. Every dead soldier who was trained in those halls had their names carved into its yard's stones, regardless of circumstance. Unfortunately, that meant that three names had to be carved into stones, even if with hatred and spite.

Reiner Braun

Bertholdt Hoover

Annie Leonhardt.

Placing his fingers onto her name, he ran his gloved fingertips over the stone etchings and could feel the anger in the jagged scratches of the words. He knew that he shouldn't be doing this to himself but he couldn't help it, it was the only thing that got him through the days.

Reaching into his coats meagre pocket, he felt the small gem, no bigger than a penny, that he found on the beach in his palm. After the war, he had found some peace in the ocean. It was something of a comfort in that it offered so much. Huh, he thought, should've joined the navy. Taking the rock out, he knelt forward and rested it on the cold edge of the stone.

Saying the words almost as ritual, he spoke his thoughts

"Happy birthday Annie. I miss you. I miss how we were. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry I made you disappear just..." He trailed off "I miss you. I won't forget you. I promise."

One tear. He allowed himself one tear before picking himself and went to brush the lightly fallen snow off of his shoulder until he felt a delicate hand make contact with his shoulder blade. His instinct taking the reins, he swung around, a small pistol `being produced from his wrist mounted mechanism, his grip tightened as he swung and eyes of the Ocean and of Ice met once more, pale hands resting against his cheeks as the snow continued to drift softly downwards.

"I missed you too."


End file.
